The Beach House (39 page)

Silence.

Instead of clueing him in, she waited and twisted around in the chair, the better to catch the sea breeze coming through the window.

“Andrea!” Disbelief was in his tone.

She cringed. No one called her Andrea. They never had. Twenty years ago she thought it romantic that he did. When had it begun to sound condescending? Controlling?

“Yes. So you must not be with her?”

“What?”

“You answered ‘Miss me already?’ I figured that meant you
were
with her, but you aren’t now.”

“Her? Andrea, what are you up to? It’s the middle of the night there! Is everything all right? You haven’t called all week.”

Well, of course she had called and left several voice mails. He hadn’t been available. She didn’t want to talk about that.

“Paul, let’s not pretend anymore. You’re not at home.”

“Ho, ho.” The fake laugh. “Okay, you caught me. I didn’t want to concern you. There was that bash at Valentino’s for Dick Green’s retirement last night. Some of us stayed on. You know, celebrated a little too much. Good old ever-sober Marty hauled me to his house. I slept there. I thought it was him calling to make sure I made it home.”

“You called Marty ‘darling.’”

“You know how I rag him.”

“Mm-hmm. And I was born on Mars.” Her voice gained strength as she spoke. “I need to say a few things. One, I know you’re seeing someone. I doubt she’s the first. Two, you have a week to end it and make an appointment with a marriage counselor. Three, I’m spending another six days out here.”

“You’re doing what? Andrea, what has gotten into you? What’s going on?”

“The truth is going on. I’ve decided that your infidelity is not my fault. I forgive you and am willing to work through things, but your fooling around will not continue if you want to live under the same roof with me.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Grow up, Paul. I’ll be home a week from Tuesday.”

“A
week
from Tuesday? Hey, listen. I don’t know what those friends of yours have been saying, but you and I make a good team.”

Translation: I cook your meals, keep your house, entertain your clients and coworkers, do your laundry, and look the other way when “urgent meetings” happen all times of the day and night
.

He continued. “Whatever is bothering you, we will talk it over when you get home
the day after tomorrow
.”

“Will you admit you have a girlfriend? Or was tonight just a one-night stand?”

“Andrea! Where did you get such a crazy idea?”

“Goodbye, Paul.” She closed up her phone.

And then she broke down. Even as she sobbed, though, she thought about how she could check off number twelve. She had made it through the night alone in a motel with the window open.

Come to think of it, she had added one more fearsome thing to the adventure list: Confront Paul.

And she had completed that as well.

Make that thirteen adventures. A baker’s dozen. All checked off.
Finis
.

Jo propped her elbows on the table and closed her eyes to shut out the gray morning as well as other diners on Kono’s deck. She rubbed her temples.

Hangovers had never felt this bad, had they? Before spending five days in a beach house with her old friends, she hadn’t cried. Nor had she addressed issues that made her feel slit open by a scalpel without benefit of anesthesia. Neither had she felt the desire to attack her life with a battering ram, smash it to pieces, and start over with nothing but her physician’s credentials—a sure formula for disaster. Drinking sounded a lot less painful.

Jo continued massaging her temples, eyes shut. At least the weather forecast promised a more typical day: blue skies, seventy-two degrees, no Santa Ana winds. Maybe that would help matters.

She had placed breakfast orders and found a table. Molly was around the corner at the coffee kiosk line, extra long because it was Sunday morning. They hadn’t seen Char yet. That meant either things went well or Cam had morphed into an ogre and done away with her. Andie had not been heard from—except for her note—since she’d left to spend the night before last with—make that at Julian’s.

“Hey. Thought I’d find you here.”

Jo opened her eyes and saw Andie now standing at a neighboring table, asking a man if she could take a chair from it. He nodded, and she dragged it across the wood decking. Then she sat down, across from Jo, a huge grin on her face.

Jo smiled tentatively. “It’s our morning spot.”

“It’s great. Ocean view, out of sight of the madding crowd.” Her blue eyes were puffy but bright as if the sun itself shone through them. “I saw Molly in line. She’s almost to the counter, so cheer up. Coffee is on its way.”

Jo nodded. “Do you want breakfast?”

“No, thanks. I ate a while ago. This place wasn’t open yet, but I walked down that main street a ways.” She fluttered her hand indicating the direction. “And found a restaurant.”

“So how was your day? And night?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when Molly comes, okay?” She paused. “Jo, let’s clear the air. I forgive you.”

The tight band behind Jo’s eyes felt suddenly released. “Andie, I am so sorry I hurt you.”

“I know. But you admitted it and I accept your apology. Will you accept my forgiveness?”

“I don’t deserve—”

“You don’t, but then none of us deserve God’s.”

The Andie Effect was in full swing. Between that and the Molly Effect, Jo figured she might see Jesus Himself any minute now, probably out on a surfboard catching a wave.

Andie said, “I needed to hear the truth about Paul. That’s what finally came through loud and clear.”

“I didn’t mean to make him out to be the bad guy.”

“But he was. He is. I’ve just been ignoring it. You helped me deal with reality.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she made a show of taking one deep breath and letting it go. “I called him this morning. From the way he answered his cell phone, it was obvious he thought I was his girlfriend. He refused to admit it, though. I told him I knew, that I forgave him, and that I want him to break it off. And I told him we have to see a marriage counselor.”

Jo could only stare at her.

“He denied and evaded. We’ll see what he does about it. If nothing, well, then I guess that’s that. Spunky Andie is not going back to being Mousey Andie.” Her face puckered up.

“Oh, hon. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I cried for a while.” She lifted her chin and the creases smoothed from her forehead. “I’m sure I’ll cry again. But now I know I’m not alone. My perception of God is that He is very close to me. And even though I don’t live near you three, I feel you’re all available to me again, like in the old days.”

Jo nodded.

“I asked myself why I married him in the first place.”

“I remember when you wanted to be a nun.”

“Yeah.” Her smile was wistful. “Then my dad died. My mom was a major loose cannon. Grandmère was in the nursing home, totally in some other world. I didn’t see myself finishing college under that scenario. Paul was older, graduating, a gung-ho business major with definite plans. He offered security. I don’t know what he saw in me, except that I was pliable and naive. The perfect wife.”

“Andie.”

“It’s true. Anyway, I love you, dear friend, and I forgive you.”

Jo hadn’t even felt the sutures being stitched into place, but they were there. She knew because the pain, no longer exposed to the elements, was alleviated.

“Thank you, Andie.”

While Jo and Molly ate their breakfasts, they listened in amazement at Andie’s tale of how she spent the previous day by herself surrounded, it seemed, by angels posing as humans. Jo thought Molly’s expression probably mirrored her own: wide-eyed and grinning. They laughed from Zeke to Jelly to the tattooed kid, but soon sobered as she told about gazing at the middle-of-the-night stars and planning a conversation with Paul that would alter her life from that moment on.

“Andie.” Molly set down her fork. “God can change anyone.”

“Spots to stripes?” She smiled. “I don’t know that Paul would want Him to. We’ll see. In the meantime, Paul has a week to take the first step. I told him I’m staying here until a week from Tuesday. I already switched my plane ticket.”

Jo laughed. “Spunky Andie just keeps on percolating.”

She shrugged. “The motel has a room available so—”

“No!” Jo cried. “Stay with me. Stay at my house.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Of course you could. If you want.”

“Well, of course I would want.”

That was when Jo knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Andie had forgiven her. They exchanged a smile.

Andie said, “Thanks. And that’s my story. What did you two do yesterday?”

Jo blurted, “Worried about you.”

Molly patted her shoulder. “I did lots more. I stopped throwing up spicy Chinese. I napped. Twice. I helped Char choose an outfit for her dinner with Cam. I let the good doctor here start me on progesterone.”

“Is that because of your miscarriage?”

“Yes. I used it when I was pregnant with Hannah.”

Jo looked at her two friends. She saw compassion on Andie’s face. She never could hide that. Color had returned to Molly’s cheeks, and she didn’t seem to be in sewer depths of despair anymore about the pregnancy. She had even asked Jo to figure out the due date. Though she was trying hard to rally her enthusiasm, she hadn’t quite returned to normal. Jo wondered how long it would take.

“That’s it?” Andie asked. “No sightseeing?”

Jo glanced at Molly. That wasn’t quite it. She said, “And…I put my house up for sale.”

Andie’s breath caught. “You’re going to do it! Move to a hovel and minister to those poor people at the clinic. Expand the OB/GYN care.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’ve made up my mind to do all that. I simply met with a Realtor friend at my house and…” It wasn’t easy to say it aloud. “Uh, signed the papers.”

Andie smiled.

“Stop grinning like that.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Don’t be, Andie. I don’t deserve that, either.”

“Yes, you do. This one you do.”

Jo shook her head, but couldn’t stop a smile from forming. Maybe Andie would like to spend an entire month with her.

Sunshine slowly regained control of the skies. While the cloud cover dissipated, they lingered at Kono’s. Molly and Andie drank herbal tea. Jo, caffeine addict and health expert, savored her third cup of coffee.

Andie said, “Molly, today’s your turn! What are the plans for your do-over celebration?”

“Mmm. I’d like to do over a day up the Elk River with Scott.”

Jo and Andie smiled at each other. They’d heard the picnic story.

Jo snickered and then laughed out loud. “Oh, Moll! I can’t help it. I have to say it again. Get out from under the pile!”

“Ha-ha. Andie, why don’t you say it too? Then you can both feel better for finally getting back at me.”

Andie chuckled. “Okay, here goes. Get out from under the pile, Mary Catherine.”

“Ooh, good one. Extra points for the name.” She glanced over Jo’s head and waved. “Here comes Char. We’ll give her a turn too.”